


Never Saw it Coming

by Kestrel_sama



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, soulmate trope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2020-01-16 02:23:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18511963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrel_sama/pseuds/Kestrel_sama
Summary: Fortune-telling was just supposed to be a way to make some money for Genji's business. It was easy enough with the dragons whispering secrets in his ears, and the outfit certainly helped bring in customers. But it was a skeptic named Jesse McCree who turned everything on it's head.





	1. Believe it or Not

“Brother, this is foolishness. The amount of silks and chains and jeweled things you drape on me have nothing to do with the abilities granted me by the dragons.” 

Genji hummed noncommittally as he fussed with the gold-lined aquamarine pendant that rested on Hanzo’s brow until he was certain it was centered. Hanzo gazed at him with resigned affection, earthy irises glowing almost gold thanks to the black liner artfully smudged around his lashes. 

“No, but Americans are more easily impressed if you look the part. Trust me,” Genji winked, finally deeming Hanzo’s attire to be appropriately flashy without coming off as outright gaudy. A sapphire blue robe with a band of gold silk along the edge draped off one shoulder, tucked in around his waist and secured with a heavy belt of hammered gold disks. Hanzo’s exposed arm and pectoral needed little decoration, as the dragon’s mark covered his arm and chest in an ornate tattoo. Genji had needed to plead and beg with Hanzo to convince him to wear the thin gold chain that connected his pierced nipples and met at his sternum where the bells began, tinkling and chiming their way up to a beaded torque that rested just along his collarbone. The overall effect was stunning and seductive in Genji’s opinion. 

It was absurd and pointless, in Hanzo’s opinion.

Hanzo snorted derisively at the comment, a hand sneaking out to pinch his brother’s bared waist beneath the beaded and fringed crop top he sported so shamelessly. He didn’t need to say a word for Genji to know that he was heavily unconvinced and mostly going along with this whole endeavor because it was Genji’s idea, and Hanzo would do anything for his little brother.

He wanted to protest all of it of course, to divest himself of his ridiculous ensemble and lose himself in a book and a cup of tea instead of, well…

_This._

_Eastern Dragons  
Psychic Readings and Entertainment_

Their shop-front was tiny, squeezed between a Korean family-owned tea shop and a boxing gym that Hanzo had since determined was mostly a front for illicit activities. It was in a questionable district, but it was also all they could reasonably afford given that he and Genji had defected from their clan in the middle of the night with only the cash they could carry. 

The shop itself had been Genji’s idea, after a night of “making friends” led to the realization that no one here could possibly understand the power of their dragon spirits. To an outsider, Hanzo and Genji just happened to be preternaturally quick and exceptionally observant. When the dragons told them things no ordinary human could glean from momentary interactions, people assumed it was due to some inner power, and not a floating lizard with a loose tongue. 

Hence the low-key “Grand Opening” that Genji was preparing them for. 

“Perfect!” Genji declared, stepping back with a look of pride on his face as he left off the finishing touches. “Now just look brooding and I’ll bring in the customers.” Hanzo was fairly certain his expression didn’t change before Genji was clapping his hands together with excitement. “Perfect! Just like that!” 

“But I didn’t…” 

“I’ve already told the girls at the tea shop next door that you’ll do five minute readings on each of them for free. Hana agreed to help at the counter while I dance out front, so she’ll be booking our clients, you know, if we get any.” Hanzo’s sigh was as heavy as mountains. He still wasn’t comfortable with Genji selling his services as a belly dancer, but his brother was stubborn, and honestly Hanzo had no qualms about Genji being able to defend himself, but they were trying to be _subtle_. Or rather, as much as they were capable of doing so. 

He was quite certain that Genji didn’t know the meaning of the word. 

It was too late to protest though. The shop was ready to go, a curtained alcove serving as Hanzo’s “work space” filled with fringed pillows for sitting on, and a tea set sitting on an oxidizing copper tray to the side. Fairy lights Genji had hung behind the drapes of fabric gave the room a dim glow in a multitude of colors, and the faint swirls of smoke from their incense hovered near the ceiling. There were other items for purchase in a cabinet by the front desk-- - ancient looking charms that Hanzo was certain Genji had handmade and then artificially aged, incense that they bought bulk from a supplier tied up in rough-looking packages of paper and silk thread, bells, and decks of tarot cards for the college aged girls who fancied themselves “sensitives”. 

Hanzo had long since had second (and third and fourth and fifth) thoughts about this entire venture, but now it was far too late to back out. Once Genji retreated from Hanzo’s alcove, Hanzo sighed softly, and turned to pour himself a cup of tea while he waited for Mama Song to come over from the tea shop and critique his brewing methods. 

____

“I’m serious Jesse, this guy is the real deal!” Hana said as she handed over the cup of coffee and Jesse’s change. “He did readings for my whole family when they opened, and everything he said was true!” She snapped her gum in emphasis, leaning forward on the counter. It was later in the day, so no one was waiting behind Jesse, and the shop was all but empty. 

Jesse scoffed as he mixed an unhealthy amount of sugar into his coffee with a sideways look at Hana, daring her to say something about it. “With the way yer momma talks about you kids, I’m sure she told him everything before he could get a word in edgewise,” Jesse drawled, taking a sip of the steaming sugary-sweet coffee. 

Hana shrugged. “That might be true, but he told me stuff I’d never told anyone else.” She grinned then, a vulpine expression of mischief blooming on her features. “I mean, you don’t have to take my word for it. He owes me a favor for doing his bookings a few times while his brother was out on a job, he won’t mind doing a reading on you for free. If nothing else, you can sit there and act dumb while staring at his nipple piercings.” 

Jesse choked, scalding coffee rudely jumping down the wrong pipe, causing him to cough and sputter, coffee sloshing out over the edge of his cup as his body convulsed. Hana watched the display with a smug grin, tossing a rag at Jesse once he’d gotten control of himself. “C’mon, you big, gay disaster. Clean that up and I’ll introduce you.” 

Jesse shook his head, setting his coffee on the condiment table before crouching down and wiping up the sloshed coffee. “Christ on a cracker, Song, you tryin’a kill me?” Jesse groused, tossing the coffee-soaked rag back at Hana. 

 

____

 

After a week of Hana’s pestering and pleading, Jesse finally relented and accepted his fate. Disbelief in the mystic arts notwithstanding, Jesse found himself standing awkwardly at the unmanned front desk, shifting from foot to foot while he convinced himself that leaving now would only make Hana’s harassment worse. 

A faint breeze snuck its way past the unbuttoned collar of his flannel, and the sudden waft of cool air made the back of his neck prickle as a shiver trailed down his spine. He looked around for an air-conditioning vent so he could move out of the breeze, but before he could find anything, the faint tinkle of bells and the rustling of fabric caught his attention. 

Jesse’s eyes flared wide and breath caught in his throat as the most ridiculously handsome man he’d ever seen emerged from behind the curtained off area. Draped in silks and jewels, he looked like Jesse’s teenaged wet-dreams come to life, except so, so much better. Jesse’s brain could never have produced this amalgam of undeniable masculinity and power blended with a serene aura, draped in clothes that wouldn’t be out of place in a harem. 

Jesse’s breath left him in a shaky exhale that made him realize he’d been holding it. 

“You are Hana’s friend, Jesse,” the man said. It wasn’t a question, but Jesse nodded anyways, lips twisting a touch wryly. Figured the little shit would call ahead and announce him. “Yep, that’ll be me. Jesse McCree,” he held out his hand to shake, but the man waved it off, bowing instead from the waist. Jesse’s eyes tracked the silver chain that dangled enticingly from the man’s bared pectoral, swallowing thickly. Goddamn he wanted to tug on that little chain, make the bells chime, and make the man groan with lips on his...

“I am Hanzo. Forgive what seems like a social misstep, but I have to be cautious when I touch people I am not familiar with,” he said evenly. Jesse’s lips twitched as a snort of amusement escaped him. Hanzo’s eyes narrowed minutely, suddenly reminding Jesse of a pit viper. “Do you find something amusing, Mister McCree?” Jesse rocked back on his heels, plastering a shit-eating grin on his face. “Sorry darlin’, but yer layin’ it on a little thick, ain’tcha?” 

Hanzo’s brow furrowed, and for just a second Jesse thought he caught a whiff of petrichor and ozone, but before he could do more than acknowledge it the scent was gone, and Hanzo was turning, one hand pulling back the curtain to his work space. “I rather thought you seemed the skeptical type. Come in anyways and I will fulfill my obligation to Miss Song.” 

Without having said as much, Jesse distinctly felt the barbs of the unsaid insult lingering at the end of that sentence. Shrugging, Jesse stepped forward, about to go in before a hand outstretched in front of his chest, again not quite touching. He drew up short, looking at Hanzo with frustration. “Well which is it? In or out?” He said a bit tartly.

Hanzo sighed as if he were stupid and pointed at Jesse’s feet. “Remove your boots first please.” 

_Oh._

Ignoring the heat in his cheeks, Jesse quickly toed out of his boots, setting them on a nearby shoe rack that he’d managed to miss earlier while he was busy ogling the “psychic”. Once that was done, Hanzo inclined his head to the curtained off alcove, allowing Jesse to enter before him, then tugging the curtain closed behind them. 

Plopping down on a squishy teal pillow, Jesse picked at his fingernails a bit awkwardly as Hanzo settled more gracefully, pulling a kettle off an electric heating element and pouring tea into two cups, handing one to Jesse, once again careful not to touch him. 

In dim glow, Hanzo’s sharp features were softened, and Jesse couldn’t help but stare a bit foolishly, nearly forgetting the tea in his hands. Hanzo sipped his tea delicately, his gaze flickering between Jesse and the empty space around him from time to time. “You do not want to be here. If I know Miss Song, she badgered you until you gave in,” Hanzo said mildly, lips thinning. Jesse shrugged lightly, giving a grin to diffuse the tension. 

“Guilty as charged. ‘Fraid I don’t believe in any of this mystical mumbo-jumbo. What’s the ‘entertainment’ portion of your business, if you don’t mind my asking?” 

Hanzo sighed and Jesse thought he saw a flicker of annoyance cross Hanzo’s features. “My brother performs as a belly-dancer,” his lips twisted into a smirk, and Jesse had to wonder how fuckin pretty he’d look if he actually smiled. “This business was not my idea, but my brother and Miss Song have many things in common, stubborn persistence being one of them.” He set his empty teacup aside and rested his hands on his knees. “Regardless, you need not believe in my abilities for me to tell you what I see.” His gaze pinned Jesse down where he sat, and the weight of it was nearly palpable. Jesse felt like a bug under Hanzo’s scrutiny and shifted uncomfortably on his pillow. 

“Yeah, ok, well do yer best, sugar. What do you see in lil’ ol me?” 

Hanzo made a noise that was almost a _hrmph_ and his spine straightened almost imperceptibly. “I know you have made some exceedingly poor choices in life.” 

_Who the hell ain’t?_ Jesse thought cynically, not remotely impressed thus far.

“Yet as a result of those poor choices, you have become a man who sees the good in others, even when many cannot. You give people a chance, because you too were once given a chance.” Hanzo’s gaze landed on a spot just past Jesse’s left shoulder, intently enough that Jesse’s gotta wonder if someone wasn’t fuckin with him. He spared a glance back over his shoulder just in case. 

Jesse shifted a little uneasily as Hanzo stared at not-him and the psychic’s thin lips turned down even further, giving him the mien of a perturbed hawk. “Someone you loved as family betrayed you, and this weighs on you as heavily as if the person had died.” Jesse’s hands clenched around his cup in a shocked twitch before he scowled. 

“Look, I dunno what Hana told you, but don’t you fuck with me, not about _that_.” Jesse snapped, oblivious to the fact that his behaviour was akin to that of a wounded dog. He hated the way Hanzo’s expression softens into something that’s nearly pity, hated the way it made bile rise up in his throat and shame creep through his gut. 

“It was nothing you did,” Hanzo continued gently, the words familiar and unwelcome. “It wasn’t your fault, and the reasons it happened are complicated...” 

Jesse slammed his teacup down hard enough to crack the heavy ceramic, struggling to get up and out of the pile of pillows, and as far away from the fucking charlatan as possible. “Fuck you! This ain’t funny no more! You and Hana are fuckin’ sick if you think this was a great goddamn joke!”

Hanzo rose a fraction of a second after Jesse, forgetting his own rule and reaching out after him. “Jesse wait!” His fingertips barely grazed Jesse’s shoulder blade through his shirt before a spark popped between them, scorching the pads of his fingers. 

Hanzo jerked his hand back to his chest, clutching it as Jesse whirled around on him, furious and pained. 

“Hana said nothing,” Hanzo said evenly, in spite of the conflict warring on his face. “Hate me if you must, but your friend is innocent in this.” For the first time, Hanzo looks less than serene, almost frightened, though Jesse isn’t quite sure of what.

Old wounds are busy gnawing at his insides though, and it’s that more than anything that makes him growl a curse before snatching up his boots and storming out of the building in his socks. 

Hanzo remained still for a long time after, staring at the closed door while a turmoil he never thought he’d know raged inside him.


	2. Blink and You'll Miss It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA: What to Expect When You're Not Expecting an Idiot

There’s no keeping secrets from Genji-- not with dragons that behaved like gossipy children. 

“You’re sure it was him? Not just some… charged up emotions?” Genji asked carefully as he and Hanzo worked together in the kitchen preparing dinner. Raijin and Fujin-- Hanzo’s dragons-- were perched on either of his shoulders, jabbering in their own language while Genji’s dragon, Uzume, inspected the radishes Genji was shredding. 

“I am certain.” Hanzo sighed and his fingers stilled over the fragments of shell he’d been peeling from a boiled egg. “It was…” Nearly indescribable. Like electrocution, but sweeter. Like being stabbed in the chest and begging for another. Like catching on fire and cuddling into a pyre to keep the flame going. And beneath all of that a certainty, bone-deep and soul-shaking, that nothing else would ever compare.

Hanzo wasn’t quite sure how to explain that though, so he offered Genji a shrug and went back to peeling eggs. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll probably never see him again.” The notion made his chest clench painfully and he fancied that he could still feel the burn on his fingertips from where they touched. Raijin made a wounded noise and burrowed into Hanzo’s shirt, an ungainly lump of miserable dragon, while Fujin growled like a perturbed cat. 

Genji frowned and Uzume barked a cranky noise at him. “Are you kidding me? This is your soulmate! So what if you pissed him off during a reading? You found him! Do you know how rare that is? Even with the dragons help, you had a one in seven billion chance of finding him, and he lives in the same city we do!” 

Hanzo snorted derisively and set the peeled eggs in a bowl before he turned his back on Genji under the guise of checking on the broth that was simmering on the stove. “He is an uncouth fool with daddy issues who thinks our abilities are contrived, who will never step foot in our shop again if he is to be believed. I think I am better off with him hating me.” 

It was a lie. It twisted up his guts, in spite of the sick satisfaction he took in attempting to convince himself of as much; he didn’t deserve any soulmate. It took monumental force to school his features into something that didn’t look like he was about to puke before he turned back to face Genji, wary of the unimpressed expression his brother was giving him. 

“Really, Hanzo? _Daddy issues_? If anyone has _daddy issues_ it’s us-- or did you forget why we moved here?”

Hanzo was privately proud of the fact that he didn’t flinch at the reminder, but the barb still lodged under his skin. His lips twitched and after a long moment he let out a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping faintly. “Just let it be. I am content with the life we have built here. Hand me those noodles, would you?” 

For once, Genji allowed Hanzo the redirection, and Hanzo couldn’t decide if he was relieved or disappointed. 

 

 

Weeks passed. The boxing gym next door was raided by the cops and animal control when a literal underground dog-fighting ring was mysteriously and suddenly exposed. Genji and Hanzo merely happened to be sitting out front in lawn chairs, enjoying the nice weather and sipping on mojitos Genji had whipped up just before the cops came barging through. 

Hanzo had to credit Genji with his timing. 

The tea shop on the other side was business as usual, with bursts of customers in the early mornings and late afternoons, and Hana cooking up mischief with Genji in the interim. When the former boxing gym’s space went up for rent, Hanzo had to gently advise Mama Song that placing a Korean deli there might not go over terribly well, all things considered. 

Hanzo tried desperately to forget his interactions with Jesse McCree, but their mutual friendship with Hana made such endeavors… difficult. 

Sometimes Hanzo would go to the tea shop, and the dragons would perk up at the nearly imperceptible lingering waft of cigars and leather. Raijin would keen low and mournful in Hanzo’s ear while he tried his best to order tea and a pastry without giving away the whimpering disaster of scales and feathers and fur that called itself a dragon.

Hana never asked how the reading went. Hanzo rather figured she already knew. 

Life was almost back to normal, aside from the periodic reminders of something so close yet so far. Normal enough that when Genji asked him to go grab coffee for the both of them, Hanzo didn’t think twice. Normal enough that when Hana said she had to grab more beans to grind from the stockroom, Hanzo didn’t question the lack of preparedness. 

Normal enough that the chime of the bell dangling from the front door didn’t garner his attention beyond a cursory acknowledgement of another customer. 

That was, until Hanzo’s dragons trilled their excitement, crests flaring as they practically vibrated from their customary position on his shoulders and leapt away from him with twin squeals of recognition. 

Hanzo knew before he turned who he’d find there. “Mister McCree,” he said in greeting, voice mostly neutral, and then turned to look at the taller man. Jesse looked a little surprised to see him there, oblivious to the two dragons making absolute fools of themselves around him.

“I uh...howdy?” Jesse looked like he was about ready to run, and that in and of itself was bad enough. 

Hana was taking her sweet-ass time with the damn beans.

“My presence makes you uncomfortable. I will take my leave,” Hanzo asserted, taking a step to move past Jesse and leave when the man’s outstretched hand drew him up short, in a reversed replay of their previous interaction. A sensation of familiarity and _oneness_ prickled along Hanzo’s lungs, squeezing with sharp little talons. 

How did Hanzo ever think he could ignore _this_? 

“Wait, uh, y’don’t gotta… I mean…” Jesse reached up and doffed the cowboy hat from his head, raking his hair back with his free hand as he half-crushed the Stetson in his grip. “I’m sorry I freaked out on you,” he blurted out, growing red in the face as embarrassment lit him up like a Christmas tree. “I thought you and Hana were fuckin’ with me, and you hit a few things a little too spot-on and touched a nerve. It ain’t an excuse, but I’m sorry anyways.” 

Deep in Hanzo’s gut, a nasty, troublesome, determined little seed of hope sprouted. 

“No, I understand. I apologize for my callous approach to something that was clearly traumatic for you. I should have been more… tactful… in my assessment,” Hanzo replied, a little too overeager for his taste. McCree probably didn’t even notice, but Hanzo heard it in his own voice and it was appallingly uncouth. 

They stood there for a moment, the awkward silence growing between them the longer it went on. Hanzo rested one hand on the counter, fingernail tapping the polished surface impatiently. _What could possibly be taking Hana so long?_

“Hey uh...not to ask a magician to give up his secrets or anything…” Jesse blurted out. “But uh...how’d you know about my...about what happened? You do some research on me before I came or somethin?”

Hanzo scoffed at the question, brows drawing inward as he straightened his spine slightly, insult written on his face. “I am not a charlatan, if that is what you are insinuating, Mister McCree,” he hissed. Jesse had the temerity to smirk at him a little slyly. “Aw c’mon sugar, we both know it’s all a load of horse-shit. What’s yer deal?” 

Soul-mate or not, this man was an utter and complete cad. Hanzo’s already-thin temper snapped like a bow-string.

“No, Mister McCree, the only “horse shit” here is the fact that you wear cowboy boots and a cowboy hat, yet neither look worn down from the work they were intended to do, which leads me to believe that your appearance is merely an affectation of a bygone era - an anachronism, if you will - and the only hard work you have ever done is with your fists,” Hanzo hissed, temper riled while his dragons swirled around him as they reflected his aggravation. 

“My _deal_ is that I am trying to keep my brother safe, our business afloat, and I have no hesitation putting my innate talents to use to fulfill those goals.” The volume of his voice rose with each passing word until he was nearly hollering. “Regardless of whether or not they are validated by an insolent cur such as yourself!” A beat of looming silence, and then Hanzo was storming out, ignoring Jesse’s weak protests behind him. 

Hanzo knew that if he went back to the shop, he’d have to deal with Genji’s whining that Hanzo had returned without coffee. Bypassing the tiny shopfront, Hanzo decided to make the three-block trip to the next nearest coffee shop instead. 

If he spent the walk seething, that was nobody’s business but his own.

_____

“Nice going, asshat,” Hana observed from the stockroom door as Jesse stood with his hand on the door, wondering if he should go after him. Turning at the sound of her voice, Jesse made a rude face at the girl, scuffing his heel along the floorboards. “Where the hell were you?” 

Hana hefted a bag of coffee beans in one hand, snapping her gum idly. “See, Genji and I figured if you two met on neutral territory you’d be less like cranky, defensive cats, ok? So I waited to see if you’d make nice, and it started out great, and then you fucked it up. At this rate, he probably won’t ever sleep with you.” 

Jesse made a rude face. “I ain’t interested in sleeping with him anyways!” Hana didn’t look convinced by the blatant lie. “He’s a stuck up prick, and a phony,” Jesse added for emphasis. Hana snapped her gum at him again, unimpressed by the outburst. “Uh huh,” she said dryly as she ripped open the bag of beans, pouring them into the grinder. 

“Remember the first time you came in here and told me I wasn’t actually a barista?” Hana said after a moment, running the grinder as soon as Jesse opened his mouth to answer. She feigned innocence and shrugged when he glared at her. He waited until she was done, side-eyeing her to make sure she wasn’t gonna flip the grinder back on just to spite him the moment he tried to talk.

“The hell’re you talking about, Song? I never told you that.” 

Hana tamped coffee grounds into the filter with ease of practice. “Exactly. Which is why I didn’t kick you out of my shop the first time you came through. But you went to _his_ place of business, pitched a fit when you didn’t like what he told you, and then told him that he’s a fake! If he’s being a prick it’s because _you’re_ being a jackass.” 

Well when she put it _that_ way….

Jesse went silent, staring at the counter while espresso streamed into a paper cup. 

A steaming latte broke his field of view, startling him out of his thoughts. Jesse fumbled for his wallet, slipping a bill across the counter. “Hey Song?” He said thoughtfully. 

Hana scoffed and put the bill in the register, immediately transferring Jesse’s change straight into the tip jar. “Yeah, I’ll help you fix it. You owe me.”

____

“This isn’t from the Song shop,” Genji observed with a pout, glaring mulishly at the unfamiliar cup. Hanzo sighed, setting the cup down on the counter in front of Genji when he wouldn’t take it. “Does it matter? It is coffee.” 

“It’s not the same!” 

“You will live, I’m quite certain.” 

Genji grumbled and picked up his phone once more, tapping away at the screen. “I’ve got a gig tonight at a sorority house, so I’ll be out late. You’ve got a reading at five with that guy whose roommate is in love with him.” In spite of his complaints, Genji picked up the coffee and sipped at it as he went over their schedules. “Walk ins start at three, so you should probably go change soon. I left your lunch in the fridge too.” 

Hanzo merely nodded and let the chatter wash over him. Being distracted by work was preferable to fuming over the cruelty of the universe that his soul-mate was an absolute fool with a stubborn streak the width of a city block. 

Better to not think of him at all, correct? 

His dragons disagreed, muttering throughout the afternoon in varying states of agitation and sullenness. They _liked_ Jesse, for some ungodly reason. Soulmate nonsense aside, what redeeming qualities could the man possibly have anyways? 

_::He has a bright soul::_ Raijin whispered in his ear between readings, giving a low rumble of approval as Hanzo thought back to the spark of mischief he’d noted in the scruffy man. 

_::He survives, in spite of his past::_ Fujin prodded as Hanzo brewed a pot of Lapsang Souchong. The woodsy, campfire scent of the tea made Hanzo think of Jesse’s lingering haze of cedar and cigars, and he snarled at his dragons when he realized it. 

The front door chimed a bare fifteen minutes before Hanzo was planning on cutting the power to the “Open” sign out front and calling it a night. His dragons went still and silent - something that should have made Hanzo wary, by all rights - and when he made his way to the front of the shop, he saw why. 

Jesse loitered in the entrance, a pastry box in one hand and his hat in the other. 

Hanzo saw the way the man’s gaze lingered over his body, saw the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallowed thickly, and Raijin gleefully mentioned the way Jesse smelled anxious but also a little aroused by what he saw. 

_::Your mate approves::_ the serpent cooed, preening more than enough for the three of them. Hanzo cursed his meddlesome spirit beasts, schooled his expression into one of neutrality and bowed slightly. 

“Mister McCree, I did not expect you would sully yourself by coming here again,” Hanzo said evenly, a touch of acidity coloring his words. Jesse flinched and moved the box further in front of him as though it were a shield. “Came to apologize, actually, if you’ll hear me out?”

Hanzo was tempted to turn the man away, but his dragons were so pleased to see him, and that in turn fed Hanzo’s quiet pleasure at the man’s presence enough that he acquiesced to the request. “As you wish,” Hanzo replied, snagging the remote for the Open sign and clicking it off before locking the door behind Jesse. Civility would cost him nothing, and if it kept his dragons from behaving like caffeinated kittens, it would be worth it. 

To his pleasure, he didn’t have to remind Jesse to take off his shoes this time, though their destination wasn’t his work space like before. For some reason unknown to even himself, Hanzo waved the man to follow him up the tiny staircase off the side of the shop marked with an “Employees Only” sign. 

At the top of the stairs, Hanzo hesitated only for a breath before he opened the door to the apartment he shared with Genji. “Would you like some tea?” It was only proper to offer, Hanzo told himself, and definitely wasn’t a reason to keep Jesse lingering. 

“Only if you’re making some,” Jesse responded, amicable and far too attractive when he wasn’t being contrary. Hanzo grunted and gestured for Jesse to sit at the dining room table while he filled the kettle and set it on a burner. He could hear Jesse’s -McCree’s- foot jiggling against the floorboards, and pretended as though Raijin wasn’t being obscenely affectionate with the oblivious man, twining around his neck and purring so loudly Hanzo was surprised the human couldn’t feel the spiritual vibrations. 

Little idiots, his spirit guardians. 

The silence between them was...not tense, but not comfortable either. Hanzo measured out the tea with as much haste as decorum would allow and set cups on the table while the tea steeped. Jesse’s thumb ran an endless track back and forth against the strand of ribbon tying the pastry box closed, an anxious, self-soothing motion if Hanzo had ever seen one. Still. There was some level of proprietary to be maintained. 

Only once he poured tea into both their cups and sat down did he finally meet Jesse’s gaze - and found himself abruptly taken aback by the faint glimmers of gold that lurked in hazel-brown depths. He hadn’t expected that. “...so…” Hanzo said awkwardly, hands cupped around his teacup as he lifted it to his lower lip. Scalding heat and woodsmoke slipped along his tongue, taunting him with whispers of _”what if,”_ and _”soon…”_. 

Jesse cleared his throat, pushing the pastry box across the table towards Hanzo before grabbing the teacup to occupy his restless hands. 

“I was bein’ an ass,” Jesse said abruptly. He refused to meet Hanzo’s eyes, gaze instead lowered to the evidently fascinating grain of the wooden tabletop. “Hana helped me realize that, an’ I’m sorry I was bein’ such a shit about yer profession.” 

Hanzo sucked in a breath of steam, warm porcelain forgotten against his lip. 

Jesse glanced up at him, and then back down, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. Raijin nuzzled his cheek in support, in spite of the fact that Jesse could neither see nor feel him. Fujin cooed in Hanzo’s ear, the furred tip of his tail tickling along his ear. 

“I just...it ain’t somethin’ I find easy to believe, but that ain’t no excuse for the way I treated ya. I hope you can forgive me, but I’ll understand if you ain’t interested in bein’ on good terms.” 

Hanzo cleared his throat and brushed Fujin’s tail away under the guise of tucking an errant bit of hair back behind his ear. “I...thank you. I accept your apology.” 

Had he meant to do that? He wasn’t sure, but the words came tumbling out of his mouth without his input regardless. 

Besides, the hopeful-puppy look that Jesse graced him with made up for a lot of ill-will that might have lingered between them. 

He could see Jesse struggling to fight down the hopeful grin, but it was written in his eyes, and Hanzo knew well and truly that he was doomed when it came to this man. 

“Can we start over?” Jesse said abruptly. Hanzo blinked, setting his cup down onto the table slowly as to not slosh any tea over the edge. “Beg pardon?” 

Jesse stuck his hand out across the table for Hanzo to shake. “Jesse McCree. Hana speaks highly of you Mister Shimada. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance!” 

Hanzo’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile, but was fleeting enough to have been a trick of the light. “Mister McCree,” he said lightly, eyeing the outstretched hand. “I am not comfortable touching people I have just met, but I think for you I will make an exception.” 

Against his better judgement, against all the myths and tales and what Hanzo knew to be _fact_ , he reached out and took Jesse’s hand to shake. 

The second their palms met, Hanzo felt like a jolt of lightning had skittered through his nerves up to his heart, jumpstarting it from its ordinary, sluggish pace. 

From the look on Jesse’s face, he might have been feeling something similar.


	3. Behind the Curtain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when their hands meet, and the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey uhhhhhh I hadn't forgotten about this fic, I just spent the whole summer and most of fall working on pieces for varying zines! One is out now (Bloodstains in Blue Water for Myth & Legend), one will be out shortly (Primum Non Nocere for Let Mercy Say Fuck) and two pieces for the yet-to-be-released Rising Moon (a McHanzo Werewolf Zine). Check out my twitter for links to preorder the last one @kestrelfiction!
> 
> PS: You have Werekem to thank for reminding me to work on this. <3

It was static electricity. It _should have been_ static electricity. There was a shock, a visible spark of blue, a zap that tingled through his nerve endings, and then Jesse realized, really _really_ realized that Hanzo Fallen-God Shimada wasn’t just some hot guy with a silly job. 

Because in the span between then and now, Jesse realized that he could see a...a _something_ on Hanzo’s shoulder. Something not natural. Something blue and gold and feathered and scaled and _oh shit it’s looking at him!_

Jesse coughed out a strangled noise and wrenched his hand away from Hanzo as he scrabbled to his feet in a most indelicate manner, skin gone white with shock. “I...wh...that’s…” he babbled, shakily pointing at the creature perched on Hanzo. It shrieked a noise that Jesse was _certain_ was a precursor to him getting pounced upon and shredded, like that unlucky guy in the dinosaur movie. 

Hanzo looked alarmed, glancing between Jesse’s accusatory finger and the monster sitting on him, _couldn’t he tell it was sitting on him?!_

Hanzo’s expression shifted then into something more like dread. Did he finally see it too? 

“You can see him?” Hanzo whispered harshly. 

Jesse nodded, and then blinked. Wait. _Him?_

“Him?” he repeated dumbly, a little bit of a squeak at the end betraying just how much he was _freaking the fuck out right now_. 

Hanzo’s lips thinned, and Jesse watched with disbelief as the creature slithered down into Hanzo’s arms where the man held it with what looked for all the world like tenderness. “Jesse, this is Fujin,” Hanzo said quietly, “He is one of my spirit guardians.” 

Jesse’s lips moved silently as he tried to wrap his brain around the utter madness that Hanzo was talking so calmly about. “What the fuck?” he managed rather eloquently, still half-convinced that this was a very elaborate prank, possibly involving holograms? Was that a thing? 

“That,” Hanzo said, inclining his head towards the back of one of the chairs where another one of the creatures was perched, “Is Raijin, my other guardian.” 

Jesse stumbled backwards a few more steps, back hitting the front door. He groped for the doorknob, intending to hurtle out of there like the devils were nipping at his heels. He glanced wild-eyed at Hanzo, who was looking at him a bit regretfully. “You have my apologies. They did not mean to frighten you.” 

_Frightened_ was something of an understatement, but Jesse didn’t really see the need to update Hanzo on his current level of terror. “What the fuck are those?” He rasped. Hanzo frowned slightly. “They are my spiri-” “Spirit guardians, yeah, you said,” Jesse interrupted, “but _what the fuck are they?_ ” 

Hanzo looked down at the blue and gold creature in his arms before looking back up at him quizzically. “Dragons?” 

Jesse blinked, decided he probably wasn’t having a stroke, and shook his head a little. “That a question or an answer?” he prodded, mighty uncomfortable either way. Hanzo huffed, his scowl deepening. “They are dragons.” A statement, then. “Your own culture has tales of such, yes?” 

Jesse shifted back on his heels, letting the back of his head thunk against the door. “Yeah, but in the stories they’re usually kidnapping princesses and setting villages aflame and shit. They ain’t gonna try to eat me, are they?” 

Hanzo scoffed and the critter in his arms made an indignant noise. “Ridiculous. They would never harm my-” he cut himself off abruptly, looking off to one side before his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. “You are in no danger. Please, sit if you feel comfortable enough to do so.” 

Jesse didn’t really, but it felt worse to keep standing when Hanzo had sunk into his own chair, wrapping strong fingers around his abandoned teacup. Gingerly, he retook his seat as well, side-eyeing the hell out of the one perched on the back of the chair near him. It crooned low, stretching out a long neck to nose at him. Tiny antlers gleamed atop its head, golden and sweeping backwards over a feathery crest. Now that he was closer it looked more like a glittering sculpture, bejeweled with sapphire scales and silken fur. 

It also happened to have needle-sharp teeth that he really didn’t wanna feel ripping into his flesh. 

“So, what the fuck?” Jesse asked conversationally. “You will have to elaborate.” Hanzo replied, sipping his tea. 

Jesse started listing off all the ‘what the fuck’ variants that were overcrowding his poor human brain. “Alright, firstly, why the fuck can I see them all’a sudden? Where the fuck did they come from? Why the fuck do you have ‘em? What the fuck do they do? Just...fucking _how?_ ” 

Hanzo blinked mildly, refilling his tea from the pot on the table. Jesse had to admire his poise in the face of all that, even while he himself was still in a slight state of hysteria.

“I do not know where they came from, but they are tied to our bloodline. Fujin and Raijin have been my guardians since I was born. Genji was also born with a dragon guardian. It is our birthright as Shimada. As for what they do, they are protectors. Sometimes weapons. Always companions. We are connected until death.” 

Jesse chewed on that thought for several minutes before realizing that Hanzo hadn’t answered his first question. “So why can I see em? And why just now when we shook hands? That why you don’t touch people?” 

Hanzo sighed, and Jesse watched bewildered as the critter clinging to him nuzzled along his jaw like an overly-affectionate cat. “It is...complicated. There are many factors at play, but even people I have touched beyond casually have not seen them. You are the first besides Genji.” 

Jesse figured himself to have a fairly hefty sense of self-preservation, but that didn’t save him from blurting out the most important part of that answer. “Touchin’ beyond casually?” he asked, like an idiot. Hanzo frowned at him. “I am talking about intercourse.” 

“You mean sex?” 

“That is the colloquial term for intercourse, yes.” 

Jesse breathed out slow and a little shaky. “Okay. Okay.” He didn’t think his poor heart could manage Hanzo talking about sex and seeing _literal dragons_ in the flesh in one day, but he hadn’t keeled over yet, in spite of the way the one on the back of the chair kept leaning towards him. 

“Now what?” 

Hanzo shrugged. “I am going to have dinner shortly if you’d like to join me?” 

Jesse stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Can’t believe you’re actin’ so casual about all this!” he muttered. Hanzo arched an eyebrow, looking entirely too regal and otherworldly for Jesse’s libido. “The dragons have been a part of my life since birth. You suddenly finding out about them, while unexpected, does not preclude my need for food. Are you staying? Genji made somen.” 

Jesse shook his head, still bewildered by all of this. This wasn’t what he’d expected when he came up here to make an apology. 

“No I...think I need to go home. Have a lie-down. See if this is all real when I wake up.” 

Hanzo nodded. “As you wish. Thank you again for the gift, and the apology.” The dragon that had been staring at Jesse turned its long neck to look at Hanzo, churring softly. Hanzo nodded. “We will see you tomorrow, Jesse.” 

Jesse stood, placing his hat back on his head. “Uh, tomorrow? I’ve got work all day, so it ain’t likely I’ll be by that soon.” Hanzo’s lips quirked up in a coy smile that did funny things to Jesse’s gut. 

“We shall see, cowboy.” 

***

When Hanzo woke the next morning, it was to Genji’s sing-song _”Aniiiijaaaaaaa”_ as he burst into Hanzo’s room without knocking. 

A typical morning, in all honesty. 

Not so typical once the memories from the night before came flooding back, one hand coming up to cover his mouth as he thought about the potential ramifications. Uzume pounced on the bed, chattering animatedly with Fujin and Raijin. 

“Zu-chan told me something very interesting this morning,” Genji announced slyly, flopping onto the bed much in the same way his dragon had. Hanzo grunted, pulling a pillow to his chest as he blinked away sleep and mentally willed his brother to spontaneously combust. 

Genji’s grin entered his line of sight. “She said that box of cakes on the table is from Jessseeeeeeee.” Hanzo slapped a hand onto Genji’s face, pushing him away irritably. It was too early for this shit. “You may not have one,” Hanzo declared. The slightly manic look in Genji’s eyes told him that his brother had already eaten one. If not more.

Hanzo sighed. “Did you at least leave one for me?” 

“Of course! I wouldn’t eat ALL the cakes your soulmate brought you!” 

Which meant he’d eaten most of them. Damn their inherited sweet-tooth. 

“So why isn’t he in bed with you? Didn’t get to any raunchy parts yet?” 

Hanzo frowned at Genji and deeply considered attempting to smother him with a pillow. “No. The cakes were an apology for his uncouth behaviour. We had tea. That was all.” 

Fujin and Raijin fell over themselves to tell Uzume that _Jesse_ could _see them_ now! 

Genji stared between his brother and his dragon as the message was relayed, and Hanzo glared at his pair, mentally swearing that they would receive no treats for a week for this betrayal. Genji’s yelp pierced his ears, making him wince. 

“He can see them?! How? Did you kiss? I bet you kissed! Was he impressed? What did he say?” 

Hanzo clutched the pillow tighter to his chest as Genji’s excited chatter washed over him, his gut roiling uncomfortably. “No, I...I mean we…” ugh how could he tell his brother that they _shook hands_? He’d never hear the end of it. 

“Our hands touched,” Hanzo settled on, his frown creasing deeper. “He was...frightened. Upset. He looked at us like we were monsters.” Bile rose in his throat as he thought back to the distress his dragons presence had caused his soul-mate. In the moment, Hanzo had been able to be calm, merely because Jesse’s emotional state had been so high that calmness was the only rational response. 

Genji’s exuberance died a swift death as his brother stared at him with something dangerously close to pity. “Oh...Hanzo…” 

“It does not matter,” Hanzo declared, tossing the pillow at Genji and sliding out of bed. “Now leave. I’m going to take a shower.” He didn’t say anything about the fact that he was probably going to stand in the shower for an indulgent period of time and wallow in his own self-pity, but Genji probably knew anyways. 

He could feel the way Genji emotionally wound up, braced himself for a verbal protest that he couldn’t just _give up_ , and the related speech, but it never came. “Okay. I’ll uh...I’ll go make breakfast.” 

Somehow, that was worse.


	4. Now You See It, Now You Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse comes back the next day, but not quite in a way either of them anticipated. 
> 
> TW for some blood/gore

One self-indulgently long shower later, after much wallowing and then a pep-talk from his dragons, Hanzo made his way into the kitchen to the smell of cooking rice. He smiled at the sight of eggs and chopped scallions and a container of sesame seeds. “I’m making your favorite!” Genji announced, looking at Hanzo almost hopefully. Seemed like he’d rallied a bit too. 

Hanzo wasn’t a hugger - that was Genji’s thing - but he found himself compelled to claw his brother into a hug that was a shade too tight for comfortable breathing. “Whoah, what the hell Hanzo?” Genji laughed, hugging him back regardless. 

“You are a menace and I love you,” Hanzo muttered. Genji let out an obnoxious “Aawwwww,” prompting Hanzo to shove him away and reach for the kettle. “Don’t let the rice burn,” he grumbled, affecting a mien of sternness. Neither of them were fooled as they put together breakfast, assembling their _tamago gohan_ just as they had when they were children - Genji’s with too much soy sauce and Hanzo’s with perfectly equal amounts of sesame seeds and scallions. 

Over breakfast, they spoke of inconsequential things, carefully keeping the conversation steered away from Hanzo’s idiot soul-mate. The box with the pink ribbon still sat on the table, even though it had been opened and raided by Genji at some point in the night. Neither of them looked at it, but Raijin and Fuujin quickly grew bored of their talk and stole the ribbon for a scampering game of keep-away through the apartment. 

“I’ll be home tonight,” Genji announced. “My gig at the Alpha Tau Omega House is getting rescheduled for next week when the exchange students get in. Sounds like they’re throwing them a hell of a party!” 

Hanzo sighed, brow furrowing as he worried about his brother. “Please be careful. If there are any students from Japan…” Genji scoffed waving his chopsticks dismissively. “Nah, I asked. It’s mostly students from Kathmandu and New Delhi. I’m gonna have to learn some new dances to give them a proper show! Did you know the ATO standard of dress for parties like this is lingerie?” 

He looked way too excited about that. 

“I will be certain your bag has plenty of condoms and dental dams,” Hanzo deadpanned. Genji cackled, shoving the rest of the rice in his bowl straight into his mouth with a serious lack of decorum. “Anyways, the point of all that is to say I’ll be home for dinner tonight. We should order pizza and watch a terrible horror flick.” 

Hanzo tilted his head to the side in consideration. “I accept, so long as you go purchase some of the beer that I like.” 

“Sold!” Genji slapped the table like an auctioneer. 

***

Much later that evening, Hanzo and Genji were curled up on their couch under a blanket, a mostly-empty pizza box sitting on the coffee table and the remaining space littered with empty bottles of the brew Hanzo favored. 

“Why does she not remove her heels to run?” Hanzo questioned, frowning at the screen. Genji snored in response. Glancing over at his brother, Hanzo smiled gently and tugged the blanket a little higher onto his brother’s shoulders. 

Just then, the dragons all startled upright from their various states of langor, staring intently at the front door. 

_::He’s here,::_ Fujin hissed, body tense. _::Something has hurt him.::_

Hanzo was on his feet before he could think much about what that actually meant, startling Genji awake as he rushed out of the apartment and down the stairs to the shop.

_::Hurry, hurry!::_ Raijin crooned, darting ahead of Hanzo, an electric blue streak in the dark shopfront. 

Hanzo spotted a dark figure slouched in front of the door, barely lit by a distant streetlamp. Throwing the deadbolt open on the front door, Hanzo carefully pushed the door open to not slam it into Jesse’s slumped body. “What the hell, McCree?” Hanzo hissed. The dragons kept watch on either side of them as Hanzo gathered up the semi-conscious form of his idiot soul-mate. 

“Y’said they’re protectors, right?” Jesse slurred. There was something wet and warm seeping into Hanzo’s t-shirt from where he’d picked up Jesse. “Hush,” he ordered, ignoring the dragon’s agitated chattering as he got Jesse started up the stairs to the apartment. 

“GENJI! Get the first aid kit!” Hanzo yelled up the stairs, gratified to hear Genji’s socked feet sprinting across the floor to the bathroom. Jesse was heavier than he looked, but Hanzo hadn’t spent most of his life training his body to be thwarted by one stupidly tall, stupidly muscular American jackass. 

Genji held the door open while Hanzo dragged Jesse’s mostly-unconscious body into the apartment, and then rushed to clear the table so Hanzo could get him laid out on it. A dark stain on his side proved to be blood, as Hanzo had guessed from the wet warmth against him and the coppery tang in the air.

He was well acquainted with blood. 

Cutting away the blood-soaked flannel, Hanzo ignored Jesse’s bruised and swollen face in favor of the open wound gashed across his ribs. “Get me soapy water and gauze,” Hanzo instructed Genji as he assessed the wound. For the briefest of moments, he was grateful that he’d had to stitch up his own wounds often enough that he wasn’t overly horrified by the amount of blood and exposed tissue present. 

Being Shimada, their first aid kit was a bit more substantial than one would find in the average household as well. 

Genji as well knew how to channel urgency into efficiency, and shortly the requested items were set out at Jesse’s side. Genji began prepping the suture kit as Hanzo cleaned the wound carefully, inspecting the inside of the gash for any foreign material. Bloody water dripped to the floor unheeded. Jesse groaned, drifting in and out of consciousness as Hanzo worked, quieted by the dragons who were bracketing his neck, nuzzling him reassuringly. Once he had the bleeding under control, Hanzo took the curved needle from Genji and began stitching up the wound with deft movements. “What do you think happened?” Genji murmured finally as Hanzo neared the end. He grunted, tying off the last knot and assessing his work with a critical eye. 

“Someone attempted to stab him. The knife went deeper here-” he pointed at the end he’d started with. “-and the depth decreases across the curve of his rib. He likely turned away at just the right moment and instead of getting stabbed between the ribs, the knife was deflected by his ribcage.” 

Genji breathed a sigh and started cleaning up Jesse’s face. “Lucky bastard,” he muttered, wiping away dried blood from under Jesse’s nose. He felt along the crooked bridge for a moment and then pulled down from the tip in a quick, precise motion. There was a gross crunch and a fresh gush of blood as Genji realigned Jesse’s nose. 

At least he was still unconscious for that part. 

Satisfied with his work on the gash across his chest, Hanzo moved down to Jesse’s hands, carefully cleaning split knuckles and wrapping them in fresh gauze. “Honestly, I can’t tell if this was a mugging gone awry, or if he was involved in something he had no business being involved in,” Hanzo grumbled. 

Genji finished cleaning up Jesse’s face, dropping his bloodied cloth in the dish of soapy water they’d been using. “Guess we’ll find out when he wakes up. Let’s get him into your bed before he starts feeling pain again.” 

Hanzo frowned, though he obediently took Jesse’s lower half as Genji carefully hoisted him from beneath the shoulders. “Why my bed?” he grumbled. Genji snorted, tossing him a look across the unconscious man’s body. “Uh, because he’s your soul-mate? Duh.” 

Hanzo grunted in response. 

***

When Jesse finally woke for more than a few moments at a time, he became aware of how spectacularly _painful_ everything was, not to mention the state of his full-to-bursting bladder. Blinking at an unfamiliar ceiling, he recognized that he was in a bed - one far more comfortable than his own - and tilted his head to the side, squinting around. 

Curled up in an armchair that had been dragged close to the bed, Hanzo was fast asleep under a blanket. He looked different without the makeup and fancy jewelry, but he was still damned gorgeous. A lock of dark hair had fallen across the prominent bridge of his nose and was just brushing the opposite cheek, making Jesse’s fingers twitch with the desire to brush it out of the way. His features were more open, less drawn-tight with aggravation and stoicism. If not for the increasingly intense need to pee, he could’ve just laid there and watched Hanzo sleep. With a grunt and a hiss, Jesse rolled to one side, nearly cussing out loud at the flare of pain across his ribs. The sound woke Hanzo with a jerk, and Jesse managed to feel bad about waking him out of such a peaceful-lookin sleep. 

Hanzo’s eyes blinked sleepily once, then focused on him like a laser, all traces of sleep tossed away as casually as the blanket he dropped to the floor. “Jesse, how do you feel?” Hanzo asked as he rose, crossing the short distance to the bed to help him sit up with the aid of a strong hand in the small of his back. 

“Gotta piss,” he grit out, easing his legs over the edge of the bed and letting his feet rest a moment on the wooden floor. He realized he was in his boxers and nothing else, and couldn’t really muster the decency to be embarrassed. He didn’t question the way Hanzo tucked himself against his uninjured side, draping Jesse’s arm over his shoulders and helped him rise. Didn’t have the wherewithal to wonder why the man was helping him. 

“Do you require assistance to stand?” Hanzo asked once he’d gotten Jesse into the bathroom. It prodded at his already-injured pride and he shook his head stubbornly. “Can manage from here,” he bit out, waiting until Hanzo had stepped out and shut the door behind him before bracing one hand against the wall for support. Like hell he was gonna let a gorgeous guy hold him up while he pissed. 

The relief as he emptied his bladder was instantaneous, and damn near enough to make him weak in the knees as his body shuddered a little. His groan echoed in the tiny bathroom, and he hated how almost-sexual it sounded to his own ears. Instead he looked at the neat wrapping that had been done over his knuckles as he finished up and tucked his dick back inside his shorts. Turning to the mirror, he took a long look at the neat stitches that closed up the knife wound that had nearly ended him. First-aid of this quality didn’t seem like the kind of thing a psychic would be skilled in, and he hadn’t gone to the hospital, because he’d likely still be there if he had. Probably with a cop at his bedside waiting for answers too.

Other than that, he could have been in worse shape, all things considered. His nose was a spectacular shade of black and purple, both eyes raccoon-ringed with bruising from a broken nose that looked like it’d already been straightened out for him. 

Small blessings, stacked on top of the big ones. 

His night could have turned out much, much differently if he didn’t have the devil’s own luck. Probably also would’ve bled out somewhere if his feet hadn’t brought him to Hanzo’s doorstep in some subconscious act of rebellion against common sense and self preservation. But here he was, unmurdered, uneaten by weird-ass blue dragons, wounds expertly tended, and a hunk of a man waiting on the other side of the door for him to do his business. 

And if that wasn’t the weirdest fucking sentence he’d constructed inside his head this week, he’d eat his own hat. If he could find it. 

Finally, out of delaying for a reason he couldn’t quite put words to, he made his way out of the bathroom, grateful for Hanzo’s strong frame to help him get back to his bed and lay down. 

_His_ bed. 

Hell. 

“Sorry f’r puttin’ you out, sugar,” Jesse drawled, a hitch in his breath as he moved a bit too wrong against his stitches. Hanzo hummed, low and considering. “I will not lie and say it was no trouble, because Genji and I will have to close shop for the day to clean up your blood from the floors, but I cannot say that I regret you coming here. Even if I am particularly...curious as to _why_.” Jesse looked over at him, trying to get a read on his chisled features and failing spectacularly. 

Hanzo helped Jesse back onto the bed, helping him to ease back into a sitting position with some pillows quickly stuffed behind him for support, and drawing a sheet and light blanket up over him. Noticing Jesse’s perplexed expression, Hanzo sighed and rubbed his face. “The last time you left here, you did not seem to consider it a safe place. I am merely surprised that you came to me in such a state.” 

McCree had the dignity to look abashed, looking away from Hanzo as he wrestled down his embarrassment. “I uh...don’t really remember too much actually. Guess somethin’ in me thought you were a safe place to go?” Hanzo didn’t look surprised at the admission, but the corners of his eyes tightened very slightly in an expression that could have been...pain? Irritation? Goddamn his micro-expressions were practically impossible to read, and Jesse figured himself the type to read folks pretty darn well! 

“A-anyways,” he continued, feeling a little exposed here with nowhere to go. “You did a damned pretty job of stitchin’ me up, and yer critters ain’t taken a bite outta me yet, so I figure whatever it was that brought me here weren’t wrong.” He hesitated, gaze darting around the room. “Where uh...where are they, by the by?” 

Hanzo’s sardonically raised eyebrow was easy enough to read and Jesse lifted a hand in appeasement. “Not that I’m worried or anything! I just...s’pose I oughta apologize fer my behavior. Again.” 

Slowly the eyebrow went back to neutral and Jesse breathed out a slight sigh of relief, feeling like he’d passed some unspoken test. “They have been staying out of sight as a courtesy to your discomfort with them. I will ask if they would like to hear your apology.” 

Jesse gulped and fiddled with the hem of the blanket as Hanzo closed his eyes meditatively. If he weren’t so damned nervous about the dragon-critters, he’d be spending more time appreciating the dark sweep of lashes against the skin beneath his eyes, and the geometrically perfect angles of his beard. 

After what felt like an anxious eternity, Hanzo’s eyes opened and he nodded at Jesse. A neon blue glow crawled down his left arm - the one with the tattoo, Jesse remembered, though it was covered by a dark blue long-sleeved shirt at the moment - and gradually a head formed from the blue light. He watched the eerie display with fascination and a little bit of discomfort as the first dragon materialized, dripping like blue ink from Hanzo’s hand to land on his bedside. The second one followed moments afterwards and the blue light faded, revealing the spirits in their more physical forms. 

They both stared at him expectantly, so Jesse cleared his throat and nodded his head. “Howdy. I uh...I just wanna say that I’m real sorry I acted like y’all were gonna eat me. And thank you for not eating me.” Hanzo snorted derisively. One of them looked up at Hanzo then back at Jesse expectantly. 

“They accept your apology,” Hanzo translated. He seemed hesitant to continue speaking but one of the dragon’s fluffy tail tips twitched like a cat about to pounce, causing Hanzo to sigh. “Raijin would like your permission to…” his mouth moved around a word that he didn’t quite voice, a scowl dipping his eyebrows inward for a brief moment. “He would like to… _sit_ with you. If you would be comfortable with that.” 

Jesse kinda got the feeling that he wasn’t getting the entire story here, but nodded anyways. “Sure, it’s y’all’s house and I-” he cut himself off as Raijin pounced into his lap, startling only a little bit to his credit. The dragon made a noise kinda like a purr and settled in to lay against his belly. 

Hanzo looked utterly mortified. 

Jesse covered his laugh with a cough, immediately regretting it as his ribs hollered a protest, groaning a little bit. The other dragon hopped up to Hanzo’s shoulder, tail curling around his neck. “That is enough talk for now. Rest and I will fetch painkillers and breakfast.” 

Even in sweatpants, Hanzo was the sorta guy Jesse hated to see go, but loved to watch him leave. A dumb grin tilted his lips up, and he was pretty sure the dragon in his lap started chortling.


End file.
